


high hopes

by starkravingcap



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Injury Recovery, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 17:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20510522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkravingcap/pseuds/starkravingcap
Summary: He keepsescapingfrom the infirmary.There’s no reason that a man wandering around with three broken ribs and a colourful array of bruises across chest should be able to sneak past a watchful physician, a dozen armed guards, andRook herselfwithout anyone noticing.It’s a mystery — and he’s done it three goddamn times.





	high hopes

**Author's Note:**

> For the tumblr prompt: “Get back in bed! You’re not healed yet!”

He keeps _escaping_ from the infirmary.

Rook doesn’t understand how John’s managing it. Between the doctor who’s made it her personal mission to never leave him unaccompanied for more than ten minutes and the slew of Chosen that have been guarding the infirmary since he was brought in, there’s really no excuse for it. There’s no reason that a man wandering around with three broken ribs and a colourful array of bruises across chest should be able to sneak past a watchful physician, a dozen armed guards, and _Rook herself_ without anyone noticing.

It’s a mystery — and he’s done it three goddamn times.

It’s all Rook can think about as she crosses the lawn out front of John’s ranch, and a familiar frustration starts to settle in her chest. She’s been gone a couple hours at the least, and if John hasn’t made another escape attempt, she’ll be shocked. She glances toward the infirmary, then back to the main house, and makes a self-indulgent decision: bath first. Hope County’s resident Houdini can wait to see her until she’s not caked in blood and dirt.

The house is quiet as she makes her way through the front door and up the staircase. The steps creak under her weight, loud and obnoxious, and Rook cringes at how the noise echoes off the high ceilings.

She’s standing on the upstairs landing when she notices the door to John’s room is open. The door to John’s room, she knows, is _never_ open — even when John’s not around.

“I’m going to kill him,” she says aloud, to no one in particular. “The wounds didn’t kill him, but I’m gonna.”

Rook takes off down the hall. In the doorway to John’s room, she pauses.

He’s standing in the middle of the room, struggling to tug off the shirt he’s wearing. His breath comes in sharp, painful sounding pants, and Rook wonders if he’s ever going to learn to follow doctor’s orders. She waits till he has the shirt off and on the floor to clear her throat noisily.

“Oh, you are in so much trouble.”

John freezes. Rook can only see his back, but she watches as his shoulders straighten and tense. _Caught in the act_, she thinks, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

A few seconds pass in silence before John sucks in a breath and turns around to face her.

“Welcome home, darling,” he says, plastering on his most radiant smile. His voice is deceptively saccharine. “You’re back early.”

“I sure am, honey. Funny seeing you here.”

John looks appropriately guilty – the dazzling smile falters, his shoulders droop. He doesn’t bother to hide the cuts and bruises littering his middle. The thought of how much pain he must be in takes a tiny notch out of the ferocity of her anger. Still – he is such an idiot sometimes.

It looks like he’s going to say something, so Rook beats him to it.

“_Honestly_, John,” she sighs, utterly exasperated. “For someone who has the word ‘sloth’ literally carved into his goddamn chest, you seem to be having an awful time staying in bed.”

“Yes, well—I wouldn’t mind so much if it were

_my_ bed,” John mutters. He twists toward the bedroom window, looking out at the building across from the ranch which houses the infirmary, among other things. “I’d like to sleep soundly for once. Preferably in a bed that doesn’t feel quite so much like a granite slab.”

He’s testing her willpower. Part of her gets it – sleeping in a strange place is bad enough on its own, but Rook knows from personal experience that it’s even worse when you’re hurting. The other part of her wants to slap him upside the head for not caring about himself.

Rook crosses her arms over her chest and watches him glare out the window. When he turns back, she almost laughs at the miserable look on his pretty face.

“You’re _hurt_, John,” Rook says sternly. “We’re not trying to keep you in the infirmary for the hell of it. You’re supposed to be resting. Quit making it worse than it needs to be.”

“I’m not trying to be dramatic, darling, but if I have to spend another minute in that _awful_ place I’m going to have Jacob put a bullet in my head.”

Rook fixes him with a look that she hopes conveys just how unimpressed she is.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she says. “That wasn’t dramatic at all.”

John sighs heavily, as though the exertion of having to defend himself is too much to bear. He wraps an arm around his battered middle and steps toward her.

“Give me tonight,” he says, a pleading note seeping into his voice. “I miss sleeping next to you.”

Oh, he is _good_. Between the look he’s giving her and the sincerity with which he speaks, Rook’s resolve is threatening to crumble right before her eyes. She crosses her arms over her chest and looks down at his wounds.

Eventually, she relents.

“You’re going back to the infirmary first thing in the morning,” she warns. “I’m not joking. You can either walk there on your own two feet, or I can drag you by the hair, John Seed.”

The effect is immediate – John brightens and reaches for her, grabbing her by the shoulders and tugging her to him. Rook tangles her arms around him carefully, trying not to jostle cracked and broken ribs, and buries her nose into the crook of his neck.

“I miss you,” she murmurs, lips against his skin. “Do me a favour and try not to get beat up again any time soon, yeah?”

Air tickles her hair when he chuckles. It’s a warm sound, cut off by a sharp intake of breath when pain catches him off guard.

“I will make a concerted effort not to, my dear.”

“Good,” Rook grins, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “Bedtime. Better make the most of your limited freedom.”

She goes to pull away, but John doesn’t let her get very far. His grip tightens around her and he kisses the crown of her head.

“I had some ideas about that actually,” he murmurs quietly, voice smooth. Warmth filters into Rook’s belly unbidden at the sound.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” she asks incredulously, squirming out of his grip to better glare at him. Not for the first time in her life, Rook thinks John might be out of his goddamn mind. “Absolutely not!”

The look in his eyes is smouldering. For a second, keeping herself appropriately angry is a difficult task.

“I believe it was you that said I should ‘make the most of my limited freedom’.”

“Oh my _god_, John,” she says. He’s gone from staring at her like he wants to eat her to watching her with fond amusement in record time. “I didn’t mean—I am _not_ having sex with you!”

“Well, be clearer with your intentions next time.”

Rook pushes at his shoulders and sends him back a half step. She doesn’t know why she’s surprised.

“You are an actual nightmare,” she says irritably. “Get back in bed! You’re not healed yet!”

The peal of laughter that tumbles from John’s lips as he steps toward the bed sounds like it hurts, and Rook can’t help but think to herself that she _hopes it does_.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> follow me on [ tumblr](https://softseeds.tumblr.com/) for more nonsense, and maybe even request a thing!


End file.
